Saint of the Pyre
by Mireillesbees
Summary: An Anthem fanfiction set around 20 years past the end of Ayn Rand's Anthem.
1. XIII

XIII

Tackling a brown-haired adolescent to the ground, the tan young man with a golden mane playfully romps. My two eldest sons, Hyperion and Zeus, wrestle jauntily in a ring created by their younger siblings. Laughter and jeers carried upon the gentle breeze reach me, sitting underneath the largest, and only, tree on the summit. A shift in the wind snatches the sounds away but with my eyes I understand what has happened. Sun versus earth, the brunet teen lies pinned beneath the blond, older brother.

An amused sigh reaches my ears. I search for the source, finding myself glancing straight into the sun. Blinded for a moment, I send a boyish grin to the woman standing by my side as I recover my sight.

"My dearest one, what amuses you so?" I ask, resting my eyes upon Gaea.

"When I said to watch the children, I meant for you to make sure they finished their chores, not make a source for new ones." She stares pointedly to the now dirt-smudged clothes of Hyperion and Zeus.

A chuckle escapes me before I can properly stifle it.

"Yes, I suppose you did." I stand up then and quickly silence her next words with a light kiss. Keeping our heads close, I lean my forehead against hers, gazing deeply into her eyes, as entranced now as the first time I saw her. Sadness hides within those eyes. She knows it is time for me to return to the City and rescue those ready to accept the individualism. She also realizes that there is a great chance I will be caught and… punished.

"Must you go so soon? Clio is still young and needs her father."

"My love, you know that I must go, that I hate to leave you all. Please do not make our parting hard."

She looks away then, my love does. We had talked late into the night on this subject. Packed for the journey back to the world of Brothers and Councils, the only task I needed to finish was to speak to Hyperion.

"Come now, enough frolicking, it's time to begin lunch."

The children begin filtering inside. When Hyperion finally releases Zeus from his victory pin, I step from beneath the tree's shade and call to him.

"Hyperion, not just yet, come walk with me."

He takes large strides to meet me as I turn and head toward the far end of the summit. When we have traveled sufficiently far enough that there is no chance of little ears listening, I begin.

"You realize what I must do now that you are old enough to take on the responsibility of our family."

"Yes, father, you must rescue your friends from the city and spread knowledge of the holy words so that mankind can shed itself of this blind of ignorance it wears."

I send a maudlin smile to him then. He has grown so much, much more than I anticipated. I am so proud to have him as my son.

He hesitates then, "I also understand the chances of your mission finishing successfully."

I fix my eyes upon the blue sky above, indirectly at the sun. "Let us hope for the best."

We stand comfortably in silence for a few moments. The zephyr returns and bears the scents of delicious food. We head back toward home knowing that our lives will never be the same.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was much harder than I anticipated, bidding farewell. The gut-wrenching experience of having those young hopeful eyes begging for you to say it isn't true, that you will stay with them forever, having Clio look at me, hopeful eyes so much like her mother's it was hard to look, but even harder to look away. Betrayal shone in my children's eyes and I knew I could not lay the blame on anyone or anything else. I was the one who chose to leave for what will most likely be a suicide mission than stay with my family.

I shouldered my pack. With one look back towards the home where my family dwells, I head down, through the forest, toward the City, and to my fate.


	2. XIV

XIV

The game path I chose to reach the City was a wise choice. Barely any predators made their appearance throughout my journey. Loud noises and thrown rocks easily scared away those that did.

When I finally reached the City, it was close to dawn. I lay in wait beside the road leading farthest away from the City's center, hoping that International 4- 8818 would still be assigned to it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I awoke with a jolt. How long was I asleep? What time is it now? Had I been spotted? Did International 4- 8818 finish this street already? All those questions rose to the front of my mind. I took quick stock of the situation. It was close to noon, so near twelve hours of sleep. That wasn't so bad, refreshing myself was smart for the tasks to come. There were no footsteps or whispering heard around. A good and bad sign, it meant that I hadn't been spotted but there was a possibility International 4- 8818 had left or never came without my knowledge.

Two options then, stay here until the bell rings, signaling the end of work or move back into the Uncharted Forest and wait there with the beasts for a second chance tomorrow. The soft shuffling of feet dragging on the road pushes me to choose the first choice. I wait behind my bush for the moment I can identify the person coming near.

The man is old and haggard looking, yet he could not be older than thirty. He's not old enough to be him.

Of course, why hadn't I realized it sooner? International 4- 8818 and I are nearly the same age: forty. He would have been placed in the Home of the Useless by now. That change in my plans leads me to retreat back into the forest to await the cover of darkness that is the night, when I can enter the City more or less unobstructed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The streets are quiet. Flickering candles and torches cast pools of weak light and strong shadows upon the road. The stone walls of the building would muffle most sounds created within, but I am sure that all are asleep. It is the way of the indivisible, after all. The silence begins to unnerve me. The usual sounds in the night – insect chirrs, owl hoots, the odd cats and dogs fighting, growling, and yowling – all missing. A great predator stalks its prey.

While pondering the mysterious silence my feet brought me closer and closer to my destination. Still my surroundings remained silent. It makes me paranoid, rushing to finish my task, finding International 4- 8818, and be able to return to the safety of the Uncharted Forest.

Suddenly, I halt in front of the Home of the Useless. Sneaking up the wooden stairs and inching open the door, I enter. Before me stands an old table with a scroll. To my right a wooden door remains shut. Neither is guarded. This trust in the group is a blessing for my purposes. I walk up to the table and open the small scroll upon which names are listed. They must be residents. I skim over the list, searching for International 4- 8818. Near the bottom his name pops out from the others for one reason. Next to the name is one word.

_Deceased._

I came too late for my friend. There is no point in remaining any longer. I turn to exit through the door when I see it – two small shadows surrounded by light through the bottom crack in the door. The door bursts open. Hooded ones stride in, grabbing my arms and twisting them harshly behind my back before I even thought to flee. I was caught.


	3. XV

XV

Pain returns to me first, giving rise to my slow ascension into consciousness. Stone encompassed my vision. Déjà vu fills me. Once again I find myself within the Stone Room under the Palace of Corrective Detention. This time I am alone and can see that the lock upon the door is new. No easy escape for me, most likely there will be no escape at all. I knew this starting the mission, but before now it hadn't seemed a true consequence. It will not happen, I must return to ease my family's fears.

Perhaps this is merely a nightmare. Really, I sleep safely ensconced within my tent underneath the canopy of the Uncharted Forest. This is a bad dream designed to work out anxieties I have about the task ahead. In the morning I will wake up, hunt, wait for nightfall and go to the Home of the Useless. There International 4- 8818 will greet me with a smile like the ones we shared when working. He will accept the teachings of the holy words and return with me to my family. I must think of a proper name for him, he cannot be an individual without his own name!

The creaking of the old door drags me from my thoughts. I glance toward the only entrance – and exit – and smile. This visually disturbs the judges and Council members here to witness my interrogation. The hooded ones' expressions remain hidden and unknown.

A Council member steps forward. White streaks with his hair, wrinkled-parchment skin and misty eyes signify an Ancient one.

"Equality 7-2521, you have put yourself above our brothers, perverted Liberty 5- 3000 into your idealism, and ran away with Liberty 5 – 3000, how do you plead?" He asks in a raspy voice.

When I do not answer, there is a sharp whistle followed closely by a sharp pain. I feel the bite of the whip even through my clothes. This is no longer a dream – or nightmare.

"If being my own person, loving Liberty 5- 3000, and living outside the City is a true crime against humanity, _I_ am guilty!"

Shocked gasps fill the room, then eerie silence.

"Heretic!"

"Equality 7 -2521 knows not what they say!"

"You will destroy the fragile harmony we brothers share!"

The rest remain quiet, still too shocked by what they heard. A judge, most likely the head, recovers next. With a wave of his hand, he signals for the hooded men to start the lashings.

Fire breaks out open my back. When they finish, I am panting, tears running down my face from the pain. I feel my blood trickle down my back and legs to fall on the floor, no longer confused for burning coal dust. The pain nearly overwhelms me.

A younger Council member steps out to the Ancient One.

"Perhaps we should let them speak? They will pour their heresy out for their ears to hear and they will realize the folly of their choice and wish to be saved."

"We would be tainted with their words. Do not let them speak." Others say.

"Individuality is a gift, not a sin!" I cry out passionately. I see them staring at me.

"Together we keep our brothers from enduring what happened in the Unmentionable Times and the Great Rebirth! Selfishness and greed would rule, brother would fight against brother, if we allowed your ideals. It is a sin!"

"This way of life is killing us, can't you see! We work until our very souls are weary and no longer wish to survive on jobs we don't enjoy! By constricting mankind to 'normal', we restrict our progress of technologies to the smallest improvements, keeping us from realizing our potential, from becoming more proficient, and living longer lives!"

The Council members look enraged but I will not stop until I say my piece.

"Look at me, how healthy and happy I am – how _alive_ I am. This is because I make my own decisions in life! I read, learn, and research, discovering and figuring out inventions once commonly known in the Unmentionable Times. I hunt, farm, and provide for my family. I laugh, I smile, and I cry, just as humans are meant to do! Humankind is not just a blob of conformity! It is like the very forest that surrounds this City! What make the Uncharted Forest so dangerous and wildly beautiful are the different colors and textures contributed from each individual!"

"Be silent!" The Ancient One calls out as I take a breath.

"We have decided." Another says.

"Equality 7 -2521, the Council has found them guilty of saying the Unspeakable Word! For that their traitorous tongue shall be cut out and they will burn at the pyre!"


	4. XVI

XVI

The hooded ones built a fire in the corner of the room closest to the door. Most of the smoke escaped, but some hung in the room. It warmed the air and made it very uncomfortable to breathe. Soot particles burned the delicate tissue of my throat and air way. They had stripped me and tied me securely to the iron pole, leaving little wiggle room. I leaned my head against the pole, resting my neck and shoulders, and cracked an eye to watch my punishers.

One handled a dull knife, the other a pair of long tongs. The one with the tongs grabbed the knife within its grasp. He plunged the knife into the fire until it glowed red-hot. The other walked toward me slowly, almost casually, as if he performed this gruesome punishment every day. He inspected my face, turning my head up and down, side to side, and opening my mouth. I grew nauseous, feeling the bile crawl up my throat and spill out my mouth. I tilted my head to the side so as not to stain myself, but both the hooded one and I were splattered. He made a disgusted sound and left out the door.

Minutes later he returned with a bucket. The hooded ones dropped the knife into the water and fished it out after the steam rose. One held it with leather gloves – it was still very hot. The other grabbed my head and jaw and wrenched my mouth open.

I'm terrified. As the knife-wielding torturer came closer, I thought of all the words I wished I had said: 'I love you.', 'I will miss you', and 'Thank You'.

I watch the knife come closer and closer to my face, the hooded one reaches out with his free hand to grip my tongue, but as the knife touches my tongue, I see no more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My unconsciousness lasted only a brief few seconds. I tried to talk but all that did was to make more blood pour into my mouth, down my throat, and if I happened to be leaning forward, dribble out the corners of mouth. What a sight I must be.

There is no sign of the hooded ones the fire pit removed and my bodily fluids drained out. I try my best to think of escape plans, but the loss of blood and onset of a fever leave me feeling too light-headed. All my thoughts swirl around the idea of what could have been, if I had only stayed home, or if they had not caught me. How I long for that life.

Too soon my escorts come for me. They loosen the rope coils binding me to the iron pole enough to release me, but as soon as I am no longer tied to the pole they tighten them once again. I am too weak upon standing to move, so they begin to drag me. I soon recover to walk, albeit with a slight wobble.

As we exit the Palace of Corrective Detention I hold my head up high and accept what is about to happen. I do not resist when they pull me up onto the wooden stage they have erected for me. I do not resist as they tie me to the pole in the middle. I then glance at the crowd, looking for a head held high or a passion burning in their eyes, I see only one. He is young, like I was when I saw my Saint of the Pyre. Our eyes connect and I try to tell him the words he needs to know, but I know I only give him an idea of what I want to express.

The fire started slowly. Then the fire grew exponentially as it consumed wood and oxygen to fuel its inferno. The smoke drifted up gradually, black and thick, replacing the oxygen within my lungs with carbon monoxide and burned from the heat of the blaze. Through this our eyes stay connected, and I beg him with my last breath to find the words that make us complete.


End file.
